7 Lessons of 2019: A Year of Honouring my Truth

I began January 2019 carrying most, if not all, 2018’s emotional baggage. I was in denial over a close friendship breakup, I was still healing from two back-to-back “flings” with emotionally unavailable men and I was very confused as to what I was doing with my life. I was a full-time student at the University of Winnipeg, constantly skipping class to drink London Fogs and write stories such as this one. And if I wasn’t catching up on piles of textbook chapters and research essays, I was drunkenly laughing at local bars with friends. Needless to say, the lessons of the year were not found at the bottom of beer bottles, nor the few weeks I laid in bed, but in the decision to begin my journey of “heart-work”. I use this term to describe my practice of self-love which includes a lengthy list of self-soothing remedies and most importantly, answering the question “what does your heart say?” On that note, here are the lessons of 2019: the year I learned how to speak and honour my truth. 

Everything in the body is emotional: 

A close friend once explained that trauma is stored in the body and that it never really leaves us. All we can do is come to a place of healing where the pain becomes more distant and slowly affects us less. In order to challenge this assertion, I began writing poetry as a way to release built up emotional trauma. This decision validated my negative experiences while letting the hurt poetically transform into the external world rather than staying caged in my body. In turn, this created and attracted new energy into my life. I wrote a series of over 20 poems following this idea and found the writing process excruciatingly difficult, but worth the emotional and physical release once completed. With every poem I wrote this year, there is a story of how and why it needed to be written. Depending on the subject matter, how much I had previously grieved, and the final acceptance to let go, certain experiences/stories were harder to write than others. 

A prime example is the most vulnerable, painful and widely read poem I wrote this year titled, “A poem for the men who’ve abused their power”. In May, my perspective around trusting men was shifting as I learned and connected with those who held space for me to freely express who I am without judgement. As I was rewiring these past stories around trust, I experienced this weird dream one night where these men were being burned alive as punishment. I woke up feeling devastated like, “where the f*ck did that come from?” But later discovered that in the Hindu culture, burning the dead is a form of purification, purging and transformation. It can symbolize how formed habitual responses are blocking one’s true self from realization, and in order to find the true self, one must burn the past. This makes new things possible by destroying the old. 

I came to understand that this strange dream was actually deep rooted trauma evolving into a conscious state in order to analyze and eventually heal from. A few days later, I made peace with this realization and sat in the burning sun while crying and shaking as I wrote my truth. Even though writing my experiences involving sexual and emotional abuse was already a physical release of the trauma, I also decided to publicly share a video of it to further validate my experiences and for others to connect as well. I have never rewatched, spoken or read the poem since, but I am proud to say that what once was a completely unbearable subject has now been rewired as an act of strength, vulnerability, connection and the courage to be brave. 

Aside from healing through poetry, I began a meditation practice as another way to release pent-up trauma and emotion. When I first started this practice, it felt strange to sit on my yoga mat in dim light. There were times when I used this as an alternative to writing because I was still learning how to open my heart; whenever I felt like I wasn’t “ready” to love and let go, there was this sense of understanding that I needed to move through the emotions on my mat first. For example, when that close friendship ended – and I was still in denial about it –  I would sit on my yoga mat and eventually cry myself to sleep. I would usually wake up feeling this intense amount of tension in my chest and aching throughout my entire body. It made it difficult to attend classes and partake in daily tasks. But I realized more and more within the year, that whatever pain I experience in my body is actually a message I need to listen to. 

As I continued to be emotionally triggered while feeling the ache of it within the body, I was able to move through the pain, the pattern, and learn how to walk myself to a different ending. I became aware that when my heart feels heavy, it usually means that I am experiencing deep hurt in my life and ignoring my truth on how to resolve it; when my chest and stomach feels heavy or “in knots”, it means I am extremely anxious; when my head or eyes feel heavy, I’m tired and stressed; when my shoulders, arms and hands are sore or tense, it means I need to relax, rest and recharge; and if my lower body aches, it’s typically related to menstruation or that I stretched my muscles. Overall, writing, meditation and being in nature are such amazing coping mechanisms that allow me to feel what I need to and then let go. Having this sense of awareness has helped me step into my truth and attend to my needs. 

 Good is the enemy of great: 

I knew this year while living in Winnipeg that once the final university semester had finished, I would take a gap year, move back to my hometown, live with my parents, get a full-time job and start paying off some student debt. However, having this mindset whilst living alone on campus made me isolate myself from others almost completely. I’ve learned to be very independent, but found myself constantly longing for new friendships and feeling a sense of connection and belonging in the school scene. At the same time, I was dealing with a lot of insecurity and social anxiety – so much that I purposely avoided reaching out to others and studying in populated places. Things like going to pay my rent, buy food for the day with my meal card, go upstairs to do laundry and going to class became so emotionally and physically draining. This season of life seems quite foreign to me now because I am, and have always been, such an extroverted person. 

During that time, I was so overwhelmed with loneliness and comparison even though all I wanted was to be held and loved. To have someone to share all these feelings of grief and sorrow with and someone to help me see the joy too. It was very confusing, but I realized my fear of being alone was being reflected into my external world which is why I found it difficult to make friendships. And if it wasn’t for my Mom, I don’t know if I would have learned how to face the unknown, trust the process, let go of expectation and be present with the time I had left.

One night on the phone my Mom told me that I needed to trust myself and the universe. Trust that if I made the decision to use the last two months of the semester to be fully present, amazing connections and experiences would come my way. As soon as my perspective shifted, I started making conversation with everyone in my classes. I would talk to random people in cafes and explore the city. I connected with so many new people and made so many new friends that when exam season was over, I found it VERY hard to say goodbye. I remember driving home on the highway with my Dad, reminiscing and wishing I had spent more time feeling confident enough to be present and experience all that was already waiting for me. 

The new changes of moving back home felt uncomfortable for a while, but my Mom’s wisdom helped once more. She said we will always want more time. More time with the people we love; more time to relax or have fun on the weekend; more time to sleep or to study for a test; more time to get ready for an event; and more time to celebrate. Except time is the trickiest thing because we don’t get more, we only get less. The more we live the less time we have so the point is to appreciate what you’ve done with it while you’re here. I learned that every conflict or fear-based reaction is an invitation to look deeper into the self. There is a quote that speaks to this as well: “good is the enemy of great.” And as I further learned through an inspiration of mine, Jesh de Rox: if you want to build a relationship with the unknown, you must know choosing freedom over security costs you the familiar, but you are gifted the opportunity to learn. In other words, if you want to live a great life, you have to sacrifice what is good, safe and comforting.

Love is being seen:

I wrote a poem this year describing my belief that love is everything but invisible; all it takes is the understanding that one is deserving of love and the vulnerability to receive it. Because of this belief, I was able to grasp the lesson that love is being seen in both the connection to self and to the connections you form with others. As I was rewiring my stories around trusting men, I received this love in feeling safe to freely express myself. I learned that love is being seen without having to constantly explain yourself; it’s when someone understands your love language, your strengths and weaknesses and doesn’t try to change or complete you. They just show up by loving you for all that you are, continue to meet you where you’re at and encourage you to grow. 

I also think we have been conditioned to believe that love has to be this magical exchange between people when realistically, love occurs more within the mundane realities of life. It’s in so many of these smaller interactions that are typically overlooked. This perspective has allowed me to see love everywhere and to openly receive it with grace.

Your purpose is not a destination. It’s about following a feeling: 

I’ve spent so much time seeing purpose as a destination: something I’ll eventually come across and it’ll be this huge magical moment where everything will suddenly make sense. It wasn’t until I found myself repeatedly sacrificing the joy in experiencing a string of big achievements for this sad state of, “was this accomplishment supposed to mean something more? What am I supposed to do next?” Instead of truly celebrating the things I had worked so hard to accomplish, my mind was already jumping towards “the next big thing” and I began to feel guilty in the lust for constant satisfaction. Soon I made peace with a new belief that I don’t have a set purpose in life because following joy and the moments I feel inspired are what lead me to the greatest experiences. The things that make me so happy inside I simultaneously laugh and cry – that’s how I know I’m on the right path. 

It’s true – I’ve changed my direction far too many times to believe that I am here to achieve one goal because every season teaches me something new. It would be a waste to miss an opportunity stuck on the thought that we are meant for one specific thing. So as much as I identify with becoming a journalist, authour, and poet, I am also a Child Care Assistant, bartender, Canadian World Vision Ambassador and someone who loves dancing, meditating, journaling, reading non-fiction, gardening, beaches, traveling, dangly earrings and funky pants… the list is endless because finding yourself is an infinite experience. We discover ourselves through our passions. 

You are the sum of everyone you’ve ever met:

In Africa there is an Ubuntu philosophy meaning that every person is a part of a greater whole bringing a sense of purpose and community to the people. The Zulu phrase, “Umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu” translates to “I am because we are”: the idea that a person is a person through other people – we are all connected. I learned this way of living, way of being, three years ago and decided to get it tattooed on my arm in June. This is the most beautiful, humbling philosophy I’ve ever known. We find pieces of ourselves through other people and we use what others teach us to move forward and to grow. Everyone we’ve ever met becomes fabricated in who we are and knowing this has helped me move on from the loss of important friendships and relationships. And it all comes back to connection; how in one moment someone is a stranger and in the next, both of you become wonderfully blurred into one. 

Remember to remind and you’ll find joy in almost anything:

For most of this year, I examined the meaning of happiness and I would sometimes feel guilty feeling the harder emotions like grief or anger. One day I heard one of my biggest inspirations, Janne Robinson, say “big hearts feel big. We are allowed to feel as big as our hearts allow and for as long as we need.” I resonate deeply with this quote and it opened my heart to see that all feelings are equal. As much as happiness is a choice, part of being human is embracing whatever it is you feel as a truth and just feeling it. 

In the middle of the year I was in the depths of healing through trauma whilst writing poetry. I was also resolving some family issues, creating boundaries and repairing the relationship I had with one of my best friends. I was mentally and emotionally exhausted, but I had made commitments to fly out to Calgary, AB and stay with family for a week. In the height of such an awkward transitional period, I thought traveling might be a perfect way to escape and just relax… Truth be told, no matter where you are or what you’re trying to run from, your feelings are always with you. I remember having what could have been the perfect day of my life – exploring Lake Louise and then hiking the trail up to Mirror Lake and the Lake Agnes tea house – but none of it mattered because I was so caught up in everything else. 

I was ignoring my intuition which comes to us in our bodies; it knows our ‘yes’ and our ‘no’. Sometimes our mind tries to ignore this, but the message will keep coming up no matter how many times we try to suppress it. I did two things to get myself out of this mindset: first, I asked the important question, “where did I get out of alignment?” Once I was able to trace where I had first resisted speaking my truth I could begin part two: remembering to remind myself of what really matters in life. I was reminded (once again) that I give my power away when I say yes but want to say no and I honour my truth when I listen to my intuition. An example would be paying attention to the softness and tightness in your chest as you make decisions. Always ask, what is this resistance trying to tell me? This helped me to see the joy in almost anything. Not only was I able to reflect on the ways I was feeling and showing up in this world, but I was reminded that through it all, I am alive and experiencing the waves of life. All of this is OK.

Life is just funny like that: 

I experienced so much change this year from attending university and living on my own; losing friends and making new ones; moving back home; traveling to Alberta; becoming a Canadian World Vision Ambassador; sponsoring and connecting with a new child in DRC after my previous sponsored child in DRC moved out of the community; and last but not least, working three different job positions and then quitting one. My lack of boundaries with overcommitment manifested quite the chaotic year, but I learned that life is funny like that. Very rarely do we learn something simply. Somehow everything happens for a reason and the universe has shown me time and time again that no matter how much I try to resist or ignore my truth, it’ll always come out sooner or later. Most importantly,  I do not know everything – I can only make do with the knowledge and resources I have in the present moment. I surrendered to the fact that I do not have to have control over everything that happens nor does everything work out exactly how I plan it. Life fluctuates so much within a week, month and year, but it’s all a vessel of growth. Surrendering to the unknown is hard, but it paves the way to freedom.